


Good Boy, A Lost Boy-verse AU

by sfiddy



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Screenplay (TV 1986)
Genre: Anyelle, F/M, I blame justrumbelledearie, Lactation, Lactation Kink, Lost Boy verse, So Wrong It's Right, and straggletag, so wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-16
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-08 23:40:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1138832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sfiddy/pseuds/sfiddy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nosty and Belle have developed a new habit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Boy, A Lost Boy-verse AU

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> It's the new black, right? I'm diving in. Thanks to justrumbelledearie for the use (misuse) of her Lost Boy series characters. No thanks to Straggletag and her 'thing' for this. 
> 
> I'd be embarrassed, but you're here reading it. So... yeah.

Things happened in stages. No one ever drove up to him in a fine car, rolled down a shiny window and dealt with him. No, no. The fucking wanks went through a lot of downhills before they ever got to his level. 

Nosty hadn’t been to see the boys in more than a week. It was nice, better than his old holidays, tucked up here in his bird’s bed rather than in cot next to a foaming reject. 

When she left he could read or watch telly or just burrow in and sleep more. But he slept better with her there.

One night, with the tension of a fresh upswing plucking his strings, he felt his brain beginning to burn. He’d started pushing her against the headboard and wrapping himself around her, as if to protect her front and back at once. Never mind that they were in her flat. He still needed to guard her; his precious soft thing. With the streets and their filth and sharp edges prodding him though the mattress and his mind losing its grip, he’d held on Belle and snuggled down, mouthing her neck and bracing his knees against the headboard with her legs propped over his.

“Hmm?” Fuck, she trusted him. Her eyes were still closed and she just lifted her arms over his shoulders to hold him closer, hands in his hair in a heartbeat. If it was just him and a nudge pushed under his legs, he’d have his blade out and sunk into the first thing he could reach. But in his bed… their bed… she let him rest his face next to her unblemished skin. He reached up, pulled the covers off his head, and saw the faint light from the hall lamp on her, the edges of her pretty top but not the color. Not enough light for that.

With her legs this way, her body had a little twist that left her top loose and a gap he could reach into. He tugged it up, wanting to feel her. His scars and ruins could use a little redemption tonight. Silver bells, church bells. Oranges and lemons. He had her tank half way up. She squirmed and pulled it over her head with one hand and hummed. Nosty could feel the sound against his chest. Wanted to feel it again, so he ran his tongue over her collarbones. And fuck, she was pushing at him for more.

People don’t lie in their sleep. Half-awake was the most honest of all because they can still talk but their heads are still drugged. His bird used her body and her mouth.

That mouth on his tackle. On the table. 

Was that real? Yeah, _fuck_ , but was she?

Nosty scooted lower, rubbed his stubbled chin into her and heard the breath she snatched from the air. Then he took her breast in his mouth and sucked, held it in his mouth and pressed with his tongue.

That stolen air was sighed and the knives went back into the mattress. They woke hours later, her nipple still in his mouth and his cock at half-mast. He climbed back up her body and finished them both off before tea.

…

Another night. Her body curled around his new bruises and she crooned at him, pushing his dreads around and letting him tuck his arms under hers. It left her so open. She was so wee that he took up all her space like this and he liked that he could. When you wanted to disappear, you had to wrap around something that was permanent so you didn’t.

“Poor Nosty. Sweet baby.” Belle rubbed her cheek into the top of his head and let him wriggle his hands under the broken in cotton she wore. It was so worn that he could have torn it but you never, ever damage clothes. Belle had a drawer full of silk but she wore this for a reason. His bird liked comfort.

She lifted her arms up and he flung the top off. Sent it sailing. She cooed for him again when he shoved his arm under hers again. When Belle tightened her hold on him, it shoved her tit right to his lips.

It had been a week. A week since he’d sucked her and managed to calm down. A week since he’d pressed her into her mattress and gotten her nails in his back one second, her whispers and cooing in his ear the next. 

“Sweet baby.”

 _That_ did it. He was fucking rock hard, licked at the quivering tip in his face and closed his lips around it. The lips on his forehead left as Belle rolled her head back, moaning. He sucked and her nipple slid past his teeth, along the roof of his mouth. Nails scratched along his scalp, between the dreads and along the hairlines. He pushed a leg deep into the mattress and pulled her thigh between his. _Jesus_ , he needed the pressure.

She pulled his hair as he swallowed around her, nothing but his own saliva pooling, but fuck, there it was. He kept on, her hard tip slipping in his mouth, tickling his soft palate and she petted his neck, the edges of his ears. Fingertips traced his jaw, feeling the hollowing of his cheeks as he suckled, while the other hand braced his back while he thrust into her thigh. He humped her leg faster, like the manky runt he was, and her light touch followed from his chin to his lips.

He thrust harder, losing his rhythm as she touched his lips, wrapped around her breast, and stroked his face. And _fuck_ , his balls are tightening up. He’d beg her, beg for more, but his clever tongue is too busy sucking her, his body wracked with the spasms that grind his cock on her leg. 

“Such a good boy.”

His cock lurched, aches and bruises forgotten. He couldn’t control the wild, open mouthed gasps, wordless syllables that splash against her deeply reddened nipple and have him clutching her thigh to his groin. 

It’s right pure mess, but Belle doesn’t seem to mind. She just stroked his neck as he recovered from his shaking, murmuring as he came down. On the prickly cusp of sleep, she turned, exposing her other breast to his lips. “Go on, Nosty.”

So he did.

… 

They didn’t really talk about the sex much outside of the bed. Belle had taken to sleeping without a shirt and he to filling his mouth with her. Sometimes it ended in a dreamy wank against her, or other times she’d get a leg over. Either way, she was sure to pet him, call him things that made him lap with more enthusiasm. A few times, he’d dared to reach up to touch her wet heat and she’d ground herself into his palm, leaving smears of cream all the way up his fucking arm by the time they’d finished. 

He was out the night before. Out late, and up to no good. The boys weren’t replacing him yet, he came around too often for that. It only took one or two busted heads to make sure they cowered before the right master and the regular food made him strong enough to do it.

But he was getting tired. And he hadn’t done his sideshow in a while, so his reputation for being mental was going to suffer soon. He may like it when Belle petted him and cooed, but not when she was troubled over his blood and scars. He liked his bird singing, not weeping.

So he waited, like the good little pet that he was, for her to get home from classes. He cleaned the street grime off and wore some soft pajamas she’d left for him once. Fuck him, after a night on the street, he was hurting for her like she was a fix. He was in a sorry state, cleaned up but twitching in his skin like the good old days.

The door opened and Belle put down her bag and keys. “Nosty?”

“In here.” He called. Her heels clacked along the floor and each strike made his skin crawl. The cold had got in him again, chilled him right to the marrow and the bath had only helped a little. He needed… fuck, he couldn’t name what he needed.

He’d tried to read, and left the book on the arm of the chair. Belle picked it up and set it to the side. “Sweetheart?” And oh yes. The _words_. He felt his eyes droop. He fucking needed the words. 

Belle felt his cheek and forehead. If he’d been feverish again, she would have fussed and bundled him up with soup and tea and ice cream. Instead, she tsk’d and ran her fingernail along his three days unshaven chin. When he leaned forward to stay with her fingertip, she smiled.

“Poor Nosty. Cold?” She stepped out of her heels.

“Yeah. Got cold.” He was about to stand up when she put her palms over his hands, holding him gently in the chair. She drew a line over his arm and across his chest and he broke out in goosebumps, shivering like he was still squatting on the pavement under Waterloo. The line dropped down the center of his chest, slowed, and flicked at his belly. Christ, he was already at half-mast. 

She tugged and peeled off her tights. Tiny patterns decorated her legs in a crisscross mockery of his ruined flesh. “You shouldn’t get cold, Nosty.” She tossed her jacket over the sofa, untucked her fine blouse and started on the buttons. “You might get sick.”

The knots in his gut started up as she dropped her fingers to the third button. He could already see the soft swells underneath and his tongue started pressing the roof of his mouth. 

“Ach, Belle.” His fucking throat was tightening up to match his damn stomach. She left her shirt unbuttoned and loose and stepped closer, nudging her way between his legs. “Why do you _do_ this?”

She just smiled and tugged at the pajamas. She knew there was nothing underneath, and was pleased when he bobbed against the elastic. He let out a shuddering sigh. “Fuck, Belle.”

“My sweetheart.” She started on him again, making him quiver, and climbed into his lap. Her curvy arse settled on his knob, rubbing the fine wool on him and grazing, scratching, while she wrapped her arms around his head, leaning into him.

Right in his face, upright and in full view. “What do you want, Nosty?” She pushed them under his chin. 

Oh, fuck. Oh, _oh, fuck_. They were soft and pale and he could see those little pink tips straining against the fabric. 

“What do you _want_?”

He grunted and ran his tongue over skin that puffed up over the top of her bra. Mouthed her through the lace and mesh. When she slid off his lap, he whimpered, watching as she pulled her skirt and knickers off, and dropped her blouse.

She loosened the bra. His cock was leaking, gleaming at the tip. She slid her knees onto the chair around him again, settling herself on him, grazing his knob with heat and pushing those half-covered tits in his face again.

“Suck me.”

Nosty’s hands snatched at her, winding one at her back to cram as much of her into his mouth as he could handle, the other grinding her down into his lap. He might be leaving a bit of juice around, but she was going to make a proper mess of him, she was so wet.

And _fuck_ , when he pulled the bra away, she was rounded and full. Belle’s gasp when he first got his mouth around her properly would be committed to memory. She reached behind her and helped guide his cock, taking him in and giving his balls a nice stroke.

His teeth, fuck. He grazed her with his teeth because fuck it was too much. He could feel her dripping down onto his sack as he suckled, giving the underside a press with his tongue, flicking over the nipple when he felt like it, but always coming back to suckling.

Fingers in his hair, Belle sighing. “Sweet baby. My sweet baby.” He thrust up, his arse straining. The nipple in his mouth lengthened from his attention.

Sweetness. Oh _holy Jesus fuck_. He sucked. More. _Fuck_.

“My sweet baby.”

Little wisps of cream slicked his tongue. He nipped at her, sucked. Warm, sweet cream dripped into his mouth and he lapped, greedy.

“Good boy.” She stroked his face and ears, grinding her body on him and pulling at his cock.

He switched, demanding more and licking, sucking and fuck he had his mouth full of her. Nothing but heat and fire as he sucked for another taste of her, something of her he could keep inside of himself. 

Belle gripped, painfully clamping down on his cock. Nosty’s hand on her arse kept her sliding along his cock while the one at her back kept her tit in his mouth. Wet and wet between his legs, the crack in his cheeks. His fucking thighs were lubed.

She rode him hard, holding him to her breast and arching to keep striking herself against the base of his cock. It was a wet mess and the sloppy noises got lost in the moans and praise. “Good, yes. My sweet boy. Fuck.” 

Oh, fuck _yes_. Nosty lurched up, scraping at the chair while her hand dipped into the mess, rubbing herself and the root of him all at once. One last spurt of cream in his mouth and she arched, mouth open and shaking while he pulsed into her. It was so good, every inch of his skin was tingling and crawling. He let go of her breast so he could breathe, ragged gulps of air echoing in his ruined chest.

God, she was touching his face again. Nosty let his eyes open, and saw Belle leaning over him, cupping his head in one hand and carefully resting her hand on his shoulder. 

One tiny trickle dropped from her breast and he lazily caught it with his fingertip. Rubbed it into his dry lips.

Belle kissed him by his ear, smearing into the mess around their bits again. “Hungry? I brought desert.”

“Yeah.” His bird was right mental, but his stomach was sunken and roaring.

“Good. I even got whipped cream.”


End file.
